Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a malevolent little rectangle of white space and black text. She stared at it, her jaw clenching so tight she thought her teeth might shatter. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. *Denied*. She scrolled down, skimming the generic rejection letter, the meaningless platitudes about "a competitive field." Her hands began to tremble.

She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic thud echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. "Competitive?" she hissed, the word a venomous whisper. She marched to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and slammed it down on the counter with such force it wobbled precariously.

She wanted to scream, to smash something, to… what, exactly? She didn’t know. All she knew was the sudden, overwhelming heat blooming in her chest, a fire threatening to consume her.